It was a Monday. Or maybe it was a Thursday. Mondays and Thursdays feel the same to me. Not like Tuesdays; I can always tell when it’s Tuesday. Wait, I remember now, it was a Friday.
Fridays can be slow or fast paced depending on a lot of factors ranging from paydays to parenting decisions to weather patterns. You can never tell how the comics business will be on a Friday. Oh yeah, I work in a comic book store called Bob Kane’s Comics. My boss isn’t “The” Bob Kane if you’re wondering; just lucky enough to want to run a comic book store and have the same name as the creator of the Dark Knight of Gotham City.
We’re supposed to be evasive about which Bob Kane the store is named after but I’m not much of a bullshiter. Luckily for me Gerald is the king of bullshiters. I once saw him convert a hardcore DC fanboy to Marvel and then back to DC.
That Friday had been slow. Gerald was in the back room eating his microwave dinner. I was up front leaning on the counter, reading a collection of a comic series I had missed reading last year, when the door opened and she walked in. Tall, blonde hair in a messy bun, thinnish figure contained in tight jeans and a plain heather gray t-shirt.
She looked around taking in the store from the door. I should have greeted her when she walked in but I was feeling lazy and figured if she need help finding something she’d ask. She smiled when she saw me, most women do. Most of them find it comforting to see another woman behind the counter.
Note: Part of the “Scenes of a Life” Stories.
I sat quietly watching people. I wonder how many of them knew how lucky they were to not have to wonder if they were normal. How many have ever questioned things so basic to their being? Am I a… or a…? Do I love… or…?
No most of them don’t know. They just walk around blissfully unaware of how little they really know about themselves. Sometimes I remember what it was like. Of course ignorance was not bliss for me; it was endless torture of not knowing the right questions to ask. Something was different about me but I didn’t have the concepts to understand what. But I found books with new ideas and I learned new words. Once I knew what was wrong I could look back and see clearly what had eluded my mind’s grasp.
Short slice of life stories about a trans woman and her girlfriend.
Cynthia hug tackled me from behind as I sat on the college library steps writing. “Hi Melissa,” she said into my ear.
“Hi, Cynthia. You’re early.” I said
“Class got out early,” she said, while laying her body against my back, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“I skipped,” I said and went back to writing. Cynthia humphed but didn’t say anything else. After a couple of minutes, I moved her arms from my shoulders to around my waist, when it became apparent she wasn’t going anywhere. Not that I really minded. The day had turned from mildly warm to slightly chilly. The long sleeve shirt I was wearing might have been enough, if the chill in the air had not also come with gusting wind that cut right through the t-shirt material. With Cynthia on my back not only was the wind mostly blocked but she also helped warmed me up.
A shadow fell over my notebook. I steeled myself for a verbal assault. Most people just walked past us but every now and then some guy would gawk at us and even rarer was the guy that would call us names. So, I was only a little concerned when I someone stopped in front of us. I looked up at the guy standing below us on the steps but still towering over us and smiled, “Hi, Richard.”